I embrace Tate. “Hey.”
She squeezes me and then pulls back. “Oh, you smell good.”
I chuckle.Good call on the cologne, Isobel. But I look around, making sure Jared wasn’t in earshot of that.
Dylan, who I’d seen briefly at the camp a couple of days ago, pushes through and wraps her arms around my neck, giving me a quick hug. “Lookin’ good,” she says, pulling back and surveying me. “But the boys are gonna mess you all up. They want to play football.” She tilts her head side to side. “Well, Kade wants to play football.”
Quinn isn’t here. I almost ask where she is, but it’ll seem like it’s the first thing on my mind.
Everyone trails outside, and I spot Lance with a young brunette, as well as some locals I vaguely recognize who probably work for the Caruthers and Trents. Others appear to be college kids, friends of Dylan, Hawke, and the others.
“What time’s your flight?” Madoc asks.
“Not till eleven.”
We stop at the bar, and he turns to face me. “I wish you were staying.”
“I have a meeting first thing Monday,” I tell him, fighting the regret in my voice. “No place to stay for long anyway. I have some interest in the house already.”
His eyebrows dart up, and I glance around the patio, searching.
“That was quick,” he replies, but I see his expression falter. “That’s… good, I guess.”
Yeah.
“And you always have a place to stay.” Fallon passes by, placing a tray of fruit on the patio table.
Madoc pours us a couple of drams of each other’s whiskey, and we sip each, testing the Scotch versus the Irish. I blow out a breath, the Irish burning a bit more. But not bad.
I pour another two fingers, the last of his bottle, as he laughs. Victorious.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell him with a smile.
I walk over to Lance, taking another swallow and letting the liquor warm my nerves. The early evening breeze carries the scent of lilacs and grass, and a memory washes over me of how fast summers went when I lived here because I looked forward to every day so much. All of the outside activities everyone enjoyed—swimming, canoeing, concerts, picnics, ice cream runs, yard work, barbecuing, roasting marshmallows, and dining al fresco.
But the pull of north-northwest, where my dread is buried in a shallow grave in the woods, slides up my neck. I wouldn’t love the summers here anymore. Not like I once did.
I step up to Lance, forcing a smile as I look down at his companion who wears a rock on her finger that glints in the torch lights set up on the grass.
“Marie?” I shake hands with his new wife. “I’m Lucas. Nice to meet you.”
Her lips spread in a bright smile, drawing attention to the freckles on her nose. Quinn’s are fainter. I wonder if they still become more prominent in the sun. “You too,” Marie says.
I gesture to her husband. “He making you happy?”
“For now,” she jokes.
My friend scoffs, she makes a face at him, and he grabs her around the waist and hauls her in for a kiss. I smile to myself, wishing that was my life for a moment.
One little decision. That was the only difference between him and me. One decision charted very different courses for us.
She inches away, walking backward toward the pool and winking at her husband.
We watch her sit down next to a friend and sink her feet in the water.
“I’m happy for you,” I tell him.
But he doesn’t reply, just looks down, takes a drink, his brow troubled.
